Newly Arisen: Darien
by daValor
Summary: Darien was a simple fisher of Cassardis before fate deemed her an Arisen. Now Gransys seems to be a much larger world with mighty beasts, a conflicted people, the politics of court, and an enigmatic cult. This is a novelization of the Dragon's Dogma game, featuring a short, stocky fighter with her own fears and doubts, and her strict but curious pawn.
1. Chapter 1

_I decided to try my hand at writing fanfiction. And since I have been obsessed with Dragon's Dogma for a while now, I thought, "Why not?" There are some great DD stories that I've read and have inspired me to give it a shot myself. Please leave a comment and I am open to critiques, suggestions, and any ideas or thoughts for future chapters. Thanks._

_Disclaimer: All rights to Dragon's Dogma goes to the creators. I'm just a fan. _

* * *

Ser Maximilian Einzenstern decided that he was gaining more from the march than he initially expected, especially in the company of the Arisen and her pawn. It was nearly midday, and they were headed to the Greatwall Encampment. It was quite the distance from Gran Soren, so he was quite pleased that the Arisen was willing to be his escort. Surely the duke's chamberlain had jobs of more import than a simple practice march for her, and yet there she was. Normally, he would decline her company, believing that he could handle himself should he run into trouble, but Maximilian was a modest man, and knew that it would ill serve him to be harmed.

"Are you alright, Ser Max?" the Arisen asked.

Maximilian was amused by her informality. No one called him "Ser Max" but he didn't feel inclined to correct her. Everyone in court knew where the Arisen hailed from, and that she was the least likely to adhere to the customs and courtesies of class and rank. Then again, she had included the title "ser," so perhaps she didn't realize that she was shortening his name. Furthermore, few truly understood what an "Arisen" was except that they were "Ones to be respected and held the Pawn Legion's allegiance."

"Ser Maximilian?"

_Ah, there it was_. "I am well, Ser." he said. "Just deep in my thoughts."

"I envy you," she said. "I haven't the luxury of losing myself to my musings with this crone pestering me."

The Arisen's pawn seemed unfazed. "I pray you remain alert, Master, otherwise risk unnecessary injury."

"Leave me be, Zillah. I managed to survive Gransys for twenty years without you."

"Not Gransys, Master, just Cassardis."

The Arisen opened her mouth, clearly offended. Maximilian couldn't stifle the laugh in his throat, and coughed when his companions looked at him.

"I apologize, Ser," he said. "You two certainly make an interesting team." He looked at the pawn. "And you, Ser, seem more…lively, than last we met."

The pawn expression was deadpan. "How so?"

"That," said the Arisen. "Pretending like you are not irritated with me."

"I am _not_, irritated."

Maximilian grinned, and listened to the Arisen and her pawn bicker. Their march had been quiet for some time now, uneventful. The knight had hoped he could wet his blade on goblin blood. It had been a while since he found himself in a skirmish.

"Ser Max."

He turned to look back at the two. They stared intently at something off road, and the pawn had unsheathed her twin daggers from her belt. Maximilian instinctively fingered the hilt of his sword and followed their gaze. He had to peer pass the trees off the beaten path, but he instantly recognized the large, grey hulk in the distance.

"Has it noticed us, Zillah?"

The pawn replied: "No, Master, but I fear that it may company with goblins."

Before Maximilian could remind the two that it was normal for goblins and cyclops to be in close proximity, the Arisen asked, "And?"

"They head toward a merchant caravan."

_How in blazes did the pawn see any of that_, Maximilian thought. All he could see were trees and the furthering cyclops. From there, he could make out the faint banter of the goblins, but he saw no caravan.

"Ser," the Arisen said, catching the knight's attention, "I know our priority is to escort you safely to the encampment, but…"

"I could not call myself a knight if I were to let such travesty unopposed." Maximilian interrupted. "Are you confident in your pawn's deduction?"

"Zillah is never wrong." she said, looking at her pawn, who returned eye contact.

"Then, pray, let us make haste." he said.

The three sprinted off the road into the wilderness. Maximilian fell behind the Arisen and the pawn, and the guttural speech of the monsters grew louder.

The Arisen charged at a goblin straggler who noticed the mystic knight too late. She swung her sword downward at the creature's leg and was well past it before it fell to the ground. The pawn leapt over it without a glance.

_So I am to clean up after them_, Maximilian thought, driving his sword into the goblin's torso. He looked up to see an armored hobgoblin swing its crooked blade down on the Arisen. She lifted her shield and the sword clanked uselessly off the metal. The mystic knight propped forward, hard, and tossed the creature off balance before plunging her steel into his abdomen.

Another goblin raced toward her and, before Maximilian could shout out warning, there was a brief "whir." The goblin convulsed as an arrow struck the back of its skull and it died with a final moan. Before the Arisen began running again, another goblin had met a similar fate. She didn't turn to see the carnage her pawn left behind. Maximilian assumed she was either unaware or simply confident in her allies.

The knight felled another of the monster's brethren and chased after his companions. He heard the growl of an ox and, just as the pawn had claimed, saw a caravan that was under attack. He recognized the knight escorts surrounding the wagons, and immediately cursed the fool who allowed his charges to be beset off the road.

The cyclops was already upon them and smashed one of the carts with a massive wooden club. The Arisen neared it, slamming her shield against the smaller enemies in her path, but otherwise ignoring them completely. The pawn shot down two and dispatched a handful of others with her daggers. Maximilian felled one of the creatures she had wounded and sped toward the survivors.

The Arisen came to a halt behind the cyclops. She held her sword down before her and titled her head down. Maximilian was about to shout at her before he realized that she was casting. A floating orb of white energy formed before her. She stood back and hacked at the light. Three spheres, of what Maximilian could only assume to be magick, shot at the back of the cyclops head. The beast roared angrily and turned its massive body from the caravan. The monster's single eye locked on the Arisen. There was another whir, and an arrow hit the target. The cyclops dropped its weapon and clawed at its bleeding eye, roaring anguish.

"Are these your fellows?" the Arisen asked when Maximilian reached her side. She was panting, and her bangs stuck to her forehead from sweat, but her eyes were wide with what he could only pin as delight.

"Yes, and I've half the mind to skin the fool who is responsible." Maximilian said.

"Zillah and I will finish this if you'd care to get these men to the encampment."

"Aye, I am confident that you can handle this." he said. "Don't die, Arisen. I owe you and your fellow a drink."

The Arisen flashed him a smile before turning her back to the cyclops and whistled. She crouched, setting her feet shoulder length apart and bending her knees. She put her hands before her, interlocking her fingers. Before Maximilian knew what was happening, the pawn was suddenly there, right foot in the Arisen's makeshift platform and was sprung into the air. She flipped forward before she fell straight down onto the cyclops's head, a silver dagger in each hand pointed downward.

* * *

Two years ago.

Her name was Darien. She was brown-skinned, a slight shade darker than her fellows of Cassardis, with sand-scratched knees and elbows from the hard labor she was accustomed to around the village. She was short and stocky, a full head shorter than her childhood friends. Her shoulders were wide, and her arms toned and marked by faded scars. Her dark hair was short and curly, with a few unruly bangs brushed away from her dark eyes. It wasn't strange for newcomers to mistake Darien for a man and, throughout the years, she had come to care less and less. There was never a lack of errands or duties that required a hardy touch. What she lacked in grace she made up for in strength.

That morning had begun like every other. Quiet and warm. The church bells to the cathedral always rang before sunrise, and Darien would roll to her side and allow herself to wake slowly, her senses gradually emerging from an already forgotten dream.

She threw her legs over her bed and stood, stretching while she moved toward a pile of neatly folded clothes she had laid out the night before. She lived alone, not isolated, per say, for Cassardis was a small village where everyone knew everyone. The familiar sounds of her fellows outside reached her through the open window. She quickly finished her morning ritual and stepped out of her home.

Darien wore the same, tan clothes of the Cassardis fisher; a loose tunic tied together in the front, and breeches that stopped right above her knees. Darien turned the corner pass a stone hut right when the sun peeked above the sea line. She lifted her arm against the light and smiled. As much as she complained how dull and uneventful Cassardis was, she was very fond of its peace and familiarity. The people were kind, and life there was adequate. And, as she had heard plenty of times, "You won't find a better lobster dinner in all the land."

A child bumped into Darien's right hip and bounced off, laughing while his sister raced to catch him. The fisher tousled the girl's head when she ran by. She could hear the speech from one of the visiting soldier's near the gate; something about the coming of the dragon. _Nonsense_.

Darien looked up and caught sight of Quina. Unlike the boyish fisher, she thought that her childhood friend had grown to be quite beautiful. She had long, curly brown hair, and the sun-touched skin of a fellow villager. Quina wore a white dress with a blue sash and, like most of her peers, was taller than Darien, with smooth skin and a slender frame.

Darien waved to catch her attention. Quina's eyes landed on her and she smiled.

There was a sudden gust of wind. Darien blinked as the rush of sand and salt brushed her face and someone – the little girl, perhaps – had screamed suddenly. The village grew silent, save for nervous whispering. Something was wrong. Darien couldn't place it, but it was like something in the air had been altered.

Quina ran to her and placed her hand on the other's shoulder while they stared out into the sea. There seemed to be a cloud in the very far distance. Perchance a storm was nearing.

A villager ran toward them, tripping over himself. "T-tis a dragon!" he shouted.

The crowd instantly reacted with mummers and shock. Darien looked back at Quina. "Stay here." she said.

The blurred darkness in the distance closed in on the beach, form outlining into what seemed to be an enormous bat. It moved faster than anything Darien had seen before. In moments, the mighty beast flew over the village in a roaring wind. Ocean water was flung into Darien's eyes which were locked on the massive creature. For a brief moment, the sun itself was blocked by a red tide of scales and wings. Darien thought that it might completely overpass them until she watched it make an impossibly sharp turn back towards the town. One of the canopy-like wings smashed into the side of the building on the hill tops, sending debris crashing down.

The people panicked, screaming and running nowhere in particular. Darien watched the beast hover above the shoreline, wings turning the winds to roar and trees to moan. It landed on the sands, shaking the earth. Behind her, she heard someone crying and villagers shouting.

The world deafened to Darien. Her once familiar surroundings seemed to dilate. It felt like she was underwater and the sounds around here were muffled and distorted.

"Darien!" Quina shouted.

Darien didn't move until she heard the distinct sound of metal falling to the hard earth. She spun around and saw a soldier fleeing toward the gates. Darien ran to Quina, pushing her towards the village's exit and, before her friend could utter protest, raced toward the beach, sword in hand.

Before she could get there, the dragon had lowered its head. Darien saw a handful of villagers near its giant maw. One man had his back to the sand, and tried desperately to move away while another stood still, hands before him in the most meager of protection. The others were trying to flee when a massive eruption of flame gushed from the beast's jaws and consumed them in fire.

Even from a safe distance, Darien gasped from the intense heat. Once the flames subsided, she sprinted forward. The beast must not have noticed her, or didn't care, for it moved its snakelike head towards a fleeing group further down the beach. Darien ducked underneath the front left raised claw and swung at the back foot. The sword bounced off the scales harmlessly.

She cursed, and felt another wave of heat and a scream's abrupt end as the dragon blew another inferno. Helplessness reached her eyes and she gritted her teeth. She spun and sprinted toward the beast's head. She would die before it blew fire again. Darien spun her sword against the front claw of the beast, not expecting any damage from her effort. But the creature did turn it's snout toward her.

Darien dug her heel into the sand and turned in time to see a wall of red rush at her. Both hands on sword, she lunged forward. She met with a gruesome thud and crack and thundering darkness, and her body was thrown back. Darien's mind came second of the pain of everything. Her back was against the sand and shallows, and she was instantly aware that something was broken. She was broken.

The earth shook thrice. She looked up into the face of the beast and thought it mad that it was speaking. _Speaking_. The voice was deep and grating. Her head spun and she tried desperately to sit up, to no avail. Darien watched a lance-like claw bear down on her and hover momentarily above her chest before it came down. Every muscle, sinew, and drop of blood screamed agony through her. She felt herself rise from the sand and she could just imagine herself impaled on the claw of the beast before she dropped back down.

Her vision blurred and darkened, but she watched her still beating heart, a floating speck in the blue sky, raised to the dragon's jaws. She raised her hand. Darien was conscious long enough to see the beast close its jaws on her heart, and look down at her once more before her vision faded.


	2. Chapter 2

Darien opened her eyes. _A dream_, she thought. _Just a dream_.

She rubbed her face and groaned, slowly turning to her side. It took but a moment for her to realize that she wasn't in her own home, and with that came a flood of memories. She sat up and looked around the room. Darien instantly recognized the ocean tapestry on the far wall. So she was in Chief Adaro's house. There were townsfolk lying among the floor, faces she knew, some groaning and others still. She smelled the bitter tang of greenwarsh and other medicinal herbs.

Darien took a deep breath and looked down at her chest. The front of her tunic was torn and brittle, stained with so much red she couldn't believe it. A vertical scar ran down her chest, from beneath her throat to the bottom of her ribs. It was quite obvious, but appeared aged, not something that she had received just…that day?

She placed her right hand over her chest. It suddenly felt hot.

_If you would face me…. _

Darien jumped and looked about the room. The voice was deep and throaty. Familiar. She was breathed heavily, and felt a bead of sweat run down her back. Slowly, she returned her hand to her chest.

_Take up arms, newly Arisen._

Darien covered her mouth with her hand. It was quiet, save for the short, shallow breaths and mutters from her kin. Dusty light flitted through the open window. She let her hand fall into her lap and turned her eyes to the table near the room's entrance. A clean set of clothes hung off the edge. There was also a rustic sword propped against the wooden leg.

Darien stood, expecting a surge of pain. She straightened herself. Aside from the scar on her chest, she hardly felt any different. She and dressed quickly in the clean garb. The sword came next, which she strapped to her waist. There was also a shield that lay flat beneath the table, which she helped herself to. Chief Adaro wouldn't mind if she took these; he was the one who taught her swordsmanship. Darien didn't quite know what she was doing, but Maker-be-damned if the dragon were to return and catch her unarmed.

She entered the hallway and paused upon seeing Adaro and Quina. The chief was a short old man with balding, grey hair and a short beard. His face was wrinkled, and his eyes were sunken. He was far from frail, however, with thick, muscled arms and a toned chest. Darien had grown up wanting to reach half the strength he supposedly had in his prime. She quietly slid back, just enough to be out of their sight.

"You say it's left a glowing scar?" the chief said.

"Yes," Quina replied. "The wound has closed, and it seems the worst has passed, but…"

Darien glanced around the corner.

Quina placed her hands on her chest. "Her heart lies silent!"

Darien looked down and mimicked her friend's gesture. The same heat from before grew in her.

_If you would face me…_

"You're sure o' this?" Adaro said, and Darien looked back toward them.

"Yes…"

"Ill magick...The work of some curse!" His voice raised. "The whole world's already gone mad for fear o' this dragon…"

The chief looked at Quina who down-casted her eyes. "Won't no good come o' this." he said.

Darien looked down and leaned her shoulder against the wall. It was quiet, and she could picture Quina's concerned face without seeing it.

"I must go see to the others, Quina." Adaro said. "Tell me if aught changes here."

She nodded. "Alright."

Chief Adaro turned and opened the front door, letting in the light for a moment before he closed it behind him. Darien came around the corner and waited for Quina to turn around. She jumped and covered her mouth with both hands, as if equally surprised as Darien was about her survival.

Darien finally said, "I'm alive." and made her best attempt as a smile.

Quina came close and they hugged. Darien patted her on the back before they parted and said, "How long 'ave I been asleep?"

"Almost a full day," she said, and looked down at her sword. "Are you leaving? But you've only just woken up."

Darien scratched the back of her head. "I'm not…sure. I feel restless. A tad bit numb, but otherwise I have never felt better."

Quina didn't seem convinced. "You should be resting. I worry for you, Cos."

"I know." Darien said. "But I feel fine. I promise."

She walked past her friend and added, "I'm going to see if anyone needs help with anything."

Darien stepped out of the chief's house and scanned the town. She heard the gull's squawks overhead and the soft pulses of the ocean's tides against the shore. The inhabitant's voices reached Darien's ears as well. There was a lights breeze that moved the fabric she wore. From where she stood, she saw the beach where the remnants of a boat hung on the sand and the docks where other watercrafts lay afloat.

Darien thought that it hardly looked like a dragon had attacked. She jogged down the steps and passed her home. _At least that was undamaged_. The ruined building had always been across her home, but now it was being used as a medical center. A handful of people lay on their backs or sides. One man sat crossed legged, back against the wall while an older woman in a dark grey vest and golden-tan skirt tended to him. She wore a brown cap on her dark hair. She lifted a cup to the man's lips and said something quietly to him.

"Benita," Darien said.

The woman turned and a wide smile spread across her face. "Ah, Minnow," she said. "It warms my heart to see you moving."

"You seem no worse for wear." She knelt beside the other. "Is there aught I can help with?"

"Actually…" Benita stood and walked over to the table, glancing over the clothes, herbs, and bandages. "I 'ave run out of sunbright to make a poultice. And I'll need moonglow as well."

"I can do that for you."

"Watch yourself," she said. "It will ill do me well if you hurt yourself."

Darien headed towards the gate, glancing down the streets. The people were obviously nervous and still in shock, but Cassardis was a strong town.

Chief Adaro stood beside the well, conversing with a soldier Darien was familiar with. She smoothed out her clothes and moved to approach them. She paused, eyes catching movement near the barn. The strange stone had always been there; a grey rock about the height of a full grown man, with a flat, smooth side covered in illegible symbols and words. But for the first time, the runes glowed blue.

Darien stopped and peered at it. A dark cloud materialized above the stone, appearing milky and faded like a drop of ink in water. The shadow of a human silhouette dropped from the mass. The darkness ebbed and a man stood. He had curly dark brown hair and a goatee, with pale skin and blue eyes. A faded green cloak hung around his shoulders and he wore brown trousers and boots.

The man's eyes instantly fell on Darien, a flash of surprise crossing his features before he straightened himself and raised his right hand. There was a glowing scar along the edge of his hand. Warmth blossomed in Darien's chest – physically, not emotionally. The sensation was similar to when the dragon spoke through her wound, but considerably less overwhelming. But it was no less outlandish.

The man approached her. Darien planted her feet and tightened her lips. _What now?_

"I am here to serve, Arisen." the man said.

Darien stared at him. A soft breeze moved past them and a gull called out somewhere from the air. Adaro had stopped talking to the soldier by the well and watched them.

"Best we stock up in curatives before we depart, Master." he said.

Darien didn't respond and kept looking up into the other's face.

"We'd best make haste if we are to save the wounded." he said flatly. "Sunbright only blooms in daylight, Master."

When Darien didn't reply, he said, "Shall we visit Aestella's for equipment?"

Darien grabbed the hilt of her sword and shouted, "Who _are_ you?"

The man jumped, if only slightly. "Ah, I apologize, Arisen," He said, bowing. "This pawn is named Rook."

_That explains naught_. "Arisen," she said, testing the word. "Is that what you called me?"

"Yes."

"What do you want?"

"I am here to serve."

"Me?" He nodded and Darien asked, "Why?"

"Because you are Arisen.

Darien turned slowly and approached Adaro. She could hear Rook's footsteps behind her.

"That man you were speaking with," the chief said, "He's o' the pawn legion. They come from some unknown place. Just appear, without a warning. They're a strange lot."

Darien glanced back at Rook who stared back patiently.

"Not human, quite," Adaro continued, "They look the part sure enough, but they lack the will…the spark what drives us. They have no capacity to feel nor act alone, so they live as sellswords. Myrmidons, they're called."

Rook didn't seem to mind how the chief spoke of him. For the first time, Darien noticed the staff strapped to his back. It resembled one Quina had used before.

_No will…._Darien turned back to Adaro. "He called me…Arisen. And master."

"Curious," Adaro said. It was rare for Darien to see the chief uncertain about a matter. "There's an encampment west of the village where men gather to face the dragon. I'd wager a fair number of his kind will be there as well. Why don't you take him? Might be you learn aught o' why he came to you in the first place."

Darien frowned. "Take him?" She looked back at Rook. "Can I _take_ you?"

"I shall follow wherever you go." he said.

_I can't handle this right now_. "I shall heed your wisdom, Chief," she said. "But first, I am to acquire ingredients for Benita. The wounded…"

"Of course. Do what needs be done." Adaro said, and patted her back. "Take care o' yourself, Minnow. I'd ask fewer heroics from you, and more care toward yourself."

Darien smiled assuredly, and exited the town with the pawn following close behind. At first she felt unease with the mage at her side, and found herself staring at him, only to glance away when he returned eye contact. He seemed quite eager to offer her his assistance, and was quick to point out the location of the plant they required. When she knelt to the ground to harvest the pink flowers, she pondered the nature of these myrmidons. These thoughts briefly took her attention away from the eerie silence in her chest and the encounter with the dragon, but only for a moment.

It was only when they had returned to Cassardis that Darien realized something. She wanted to know more. She felt an unfamiliar restlessness. Surely not a drive strong enough to consider facing the dragon; she had no delusions she stood a chance. Besides, if she still breathed without a heart, did she necessarily need it? Darien didn't know the answer. But she wanted to.

"Rook," she said, once she finished conversing with Benita. The pawn faced her quietly. "Will you escort me to the encampment?"

"I would be honored, Arisen." he said, not to her surprise.

From what the chief and pawn had explained about the encampment, it didn't seem like it'd take long to get there. Darien expected to get there, ask her questions, and return to Cassardis. She packed lightly and continued carrying her weapons. Goblins were a constant threat when traveling on the roads, but not one that garnered much concern for her. Adaro had trained her to face these beasts many a time. She considered speaking to Quina before departing, but decided against it. Darien needed out, if but for a day or two.

The sun hovered just past the center of the sky, telling Darien that it was past midday. She followed behind Rook. Sometimes the pawn quickened his pace, and Darien had to wonder if he was equally as eager as herself.

She nearly walked into her companion's back when he stopped. "What-"

"Help me!"

Darien pushed past the pawn and tensed. She spotted a man further down the road surrounded by goblins. She drew her sword and sprinted forward. The closest goblin was too occupied to sense her approach. Darien drew the blade down on its shoulder. It howled, and she wrenched the iron out of its corpse.

The goblins cursed at her – she assumed. The man scurried out of the circle and pressed his back against a tree trunk. Darien blocked against a club swung at her, bracing her feet against the impact.

"Tis weak to fire!" Rook shouted.

Darien jumped back and a volley of fireballs shot past her. She felt the heat, but was otherwise unscathed. She watched a burning goblin run past her, howling bloody murder. The scent was fowl.

"That was incredible, Rook," she said, sheathing her sword.

The pawn's face was as straight and blank as before, but Darien could have sworn his eyes looked…pleased?

"Quite the fighter, eh?" the man shouted. Darien had almost forgotten he was there.

He stood and brushed dirt of his red trousers. She assumed he was a merchant, although his wares were all but destroyed and lay scattered about the path. He had a black cowlick cut, with stubble around his jaw. His dark vest was unbuttoned and over a white, belted tunic.

"That was far too close," he said, "I'm called Reynard. A traveling salesman, though those damnable beasts ruined my wares…But thanks to you, it was only my wares that were lost."

"I am happy to help." Darien said, stepping over a goblin corpse to near him. "It's quite unusual for their kind to attack travelers on the road."

"Aye, although, there have been more of their like since the dragon."

Darien looked at him. "For truth?"

"The dragon brings with it more monsters than usual," Rook said. "Best we assume danger lurks around every corner."

Darien turned toward the pawn and frowned.

Reynard laughed. "Your companion is correct. The beasts have gotten bolder of late." He leaned over and swept up a trampled piece of material, which he unraveled and shook out. "Here. Pray, take this as a sign of my gratitude."

The merchant draped the leather cape over Darien's shoulder and pinned it together with a round grey clasp. She pinched the corner and looked down at it before letting it fall back against her.

"You have my thanks." she said and realized that the merchant had already departed with a soft jog toward Cassardis.

Darien looked at Rook and shrugged. The rest of their short journey to the encampment was uneventful, and in less than an hour, she sighted the wooden fort before her. When she was young, she was told that this place had once been a thriving settlement. She didn't know what caused the change, but now it was an encampment for soldiers stationed to defend Cassardis. The townsfolk had been delivered supplies there many times before, but never had she actually entered.

The gate to the encampment was open. Soldiers hurriedly marched about, and Darien wondered if they were tense from the dragon attack. A guard watched them approached, but didn't move to question or hinder them. Tents stood along fort's walls where soldiers walked about. There were others as well, warriors who wore no uniform, and watched the commotion silently.

_Well met, Arisen._

Darien turned her head right, then left. "What-"

_Can you hear our voice?_

She slowly turned 360 degrees. "Rook, pray tell me I'm not going mad. Do you hear that?"

"We are near a riftstone," the pawn said, "if memory serves."

Before Darien could remind him to elaborate, he took off running up the makeshift steps into next area of the encampment.

"I know the way, Master. Follow me."

She sighed, and ran after him. He stopped before a wide tent. It was similar to the other shelters set about the camp, with the Duke's banner hung centered above the entrance. Two tall torches sat on each side and along the inside were barrels and wooden shelves containing supplies and the like. However, once inside Darien immediately noticed the riftstone upon a low platform. Unlike the one in Cassardis, this one seemed taken care of. It looked polished, and sat before a regal banner lighted by standing candles.

Darien walked past a knelt soldier next to the shelves and the man who stared at her from behind a table. This riftstone had a wide room to itself. Rook stopped before the short steps up to the platform. Darien approached the stone.

_Well met, Arisen._ _Can you hear our voice?_

Darien took a deep breath. _A talking rock_. "Yes."

_We speak to you from across a great distance. The pawn legion has awaited you._

The voice was that of a man's, with a distance and echo. Even so, Darien could hear the voice clearly, as if this speaker stood before her…where the stone was.

_Pray, forgive this strange and impersonal greeting. This rift serves as a gate. It connects our kind to your world. It opens to the Arisen, for they possess a will powerful enough to guide the legion._

Darien shifted her weight to her left foot and let her eyes wander the smooth and glowing surface of the stone.

_If you would claim to be among the Arisen, prove the strength of your resolve. _

_What?_ Darien thought. She had _never_ claimed to be this "Arisen." She looked back at Rook and then returned her eyes forward when she realized that he wasn't going to contribute any useful thought.

Darien went with the first thing on her mind. "What must I do?"

There was the briefest of pauses before the voice spoke. _We shall guide you in your trial. If you are an Arisen in truth, this humble task will prove no obstacle. The Arisen must possess the valor to stand against all threats, and the power to quell them. A tireless spirit of self-improvement grants the strength to lead the legion. Pray, show it now._

Darien waited. She raised her eyebrows. "What?" she asked. There was no reply. "Hello?" She turned around. "Rook?"

The pawn shook his head. He was just as useful as the demanding magical rock. Before she could protest, she heard shouting from outside. Darien ran out of the tent and watched a handful of soldiers run by.

"The beast comes! Hurry!" someone yelled.

Rook took to her side. "There may be prowling monsters about." he said.

"Let's see for ourselves." she said, sprinting toward the gate.

They exited the opposite end of the encampment. Two soldiers were spinning the wheel that lowered the gate. Darien passed underneath before it closed, ignoring the warnings called out behind her. The mage was beside her, and she was momentarily relieved. She stood upright and froze.

There was a bloody cyclops there. It was on its hands and knees, but was nothing less than a grey hulk. It had thick arms and legs, with a stomach marked by scars and stains. A company of goblins surrounded the monster, clumsily fighting the soldiers. Darien pulled out her sword and lifted her shield as the cyclops drew itself up. One of its ivory tusks had been broken off, and lay dismantled at its stubby toes. The one eye was wide and wild.

The cyclops threw out its left arm, throwing a soldier over their heads to slam against the wooden walls. _No way_. Darien felt the silence in her chest strange. It gave her an uncanny sense of calm. She reminded herself: _I charged a dragon_.

Darien dashed forward, swinging her blade at a goblin. She spun her sword free and knocked another down with a thrust of her shield. The smaller creature was felled by a brief burst of flame from the mage. _Good man_, she thought.

The cyclops reached down – for her or someone else, Darien didn't know. She fell back on her side, the momentum sliding her forward and beneath the monster's grip. Her sword left a scratch on the mighty hand. She ran beneath the legs of the cylops and spun her blade. The damage was apparent, but slight. To her sides, soldiers battled the goblins. She kept her focus on the big one; the men were trained, and should have been able to handle the creatures.

"Arisen!" Rook shouted, felling a goblin with a swing of his staff. "The eye!"

Darian looked up. _Yes..._She faced the cyclops's back, and scanned the bumpy and calloused skin of the beast. _This is madness, but alright._

Darien ran forward and jumped on the back leg. Her fingers easily found the nooks of the monster's skin and she pulled herself up. The cyclops swung back and forth, but she held on for dear life. It felt like eternity before she found herself clinging to the neck. She was high up, gripping the monster's right shoulder.

Darien looked down into the face of a soldier. She was confused. The man's eyes were wide and his cheeks wet with sweat or tears. The cyclops held him in its grip and slowly raised him to its face. The soldier screamed.

"ROOK!" Darien cried. She held tight with her left hand, and gripped her sword with the other, She brought it down into the skin as hard as she could. The cyclops dropped its shoulder, almost throwing Darien off if not for her grip on the sword speared into the beast. Her shield was sent flying to the earth below. A trio of fireballs collided against the massive hand and the man fell from the monster's hold. She didn't have time to check on the soldier as she gripped the sword's hilt with both hands.

A shadow passed over her. The cyclops was attempting to grab her.

"Tis weak to ice and fire alike!"

_Rook_. Darien gritted her teeth as the beast staggered. It was tripping over itself, one foot scarred and bit by a frost that crept up its leg. The monster tilted forward. Darien grunted as she pulled the tip of the sword out of the skin. She jumped forward, feet landing on the remaining tusk of the beast. She looked upward into the cyclops eye. The large, dark pupil darted straight at her.

Darien jumped and pulled herself up with her left arm. She braced herself and plunged her sword into the gaping eye. The cyclops's roar overpowered Darien's scream. It dropped to its knees. The force wrenched Darien's grip and she fell backwards away from the head. She grunted as she dropped onto something…someone. She rolled out of the arms of Rook and off of a soldier's torso. He seemed equally as surprised as she felt.

Darien turned to see the cyclops fall forward onto its stomach, head on its side and face titled towards them. It breathed quickly and shallowly. Her own was similar, even without a heartbeat. Rook placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn't notice the scratch along her chin cease bleeding, or the dark bruise of the shield's handle on her left arm lighten from dark purple to light brown.

The cyclops let out a long sigh. Its eyelid shut halfway on the reddened eye, and the pupil dilated. In moments, it lay still and silent. A red, winding sigil briefly glowed on the monster's forehead before it faded.

Rook was speaking. Darien felt herself hoisted up to her feet and her face close to a smiling soldier who patted her shoulders. A few men cheered. Others groaned or kept silent.

Darien shook her head and looked at the pawn. "Does this count?"

Rook nodded. "I believe so, Master."

* * *

_I realized shortly after writing this that I may have exaggerated the first boss fight :D. But it was really fun to write. This chapter is also considerably longer than the first one. If anyone wants them to be shorter, let me know._


	3. Chapter 3

Darien stood before the riftstone. She was equally as tired as she was curious about the day's events. She had managed to secure a clean set of clothes from Ecbal, the innkeeper behind the table, and was at least able to wash away the cyclops's gore from her skin. It had been a bloody long day.

_With that, your trial is complete._

She briefly wondered if the voice had anything to do with the cyclops. Surely it was too strange to be coincidence. Darien was far too tired to ponder, further.

_You are the Arisen in truth, proven beyond any doubt_.

She stayed silent.

_Now, I bid you select a companion for the journey ahead. _

"What?"

_They shall serve you and you alone, to share in your hardships and aid you in every endeavor._

Darien frowned and looked down at her feet. _A companion_. She wrung out her hands and shifted her weight to one foot at a time. It wasn't like there were options laid out before her. She considered her own faults; she was impatient, graceless, and, when she was afraid, reckless. She had spent all of her life seeing the same faces and doing the same routines. If Darien were to be partnered with someone, she'd prefer someone who could adjust and overcome unfamiliar obstacles.

She shrugged her shoulders and placed her palm flat against the rifstone. Beside it, the portal flowered. Darien stepped back. A pawn fell from the mist, temporarily obscured by the darkness. She stood and raised her right hand, saluting the same scar that Rook had shown before.

Darien looked her over. This was her "companion?" She had thick, brown hair, slightly shorter than Quina's and parted in the middle with short, wispy bangs. Her features were sharp, with pale skin and freckles dotting the ridge of her nose. One of her eyes was light hazel, and the other, blue. They had the same dullness that Rook and the other pawns had. Whereas Darien was stout, and hardly feminine, the pawn was tall and slender. Her emotionless face was void of any age lines. The pawn wore plain, white breeches, leather shoes, and a long brown tunic, belted at the waist. She was armed as well, with two rustic daggers and a bow strapped to her back.

The pawn knelt. Darien opened her mouth and paused. She turned, finally noticing the crowd behind her.

Rook was one among the pawns. He knelt and lifted his face to her. "Our fealty is sworn to you, Arisen. From this day, the legions men called "pawns" live and die by your command."

Like a ripple, the rest went to their knees and bowed their heads. They were all armed. Darien could see swords and shields, bows and daggers, and staffs. They came in different shapes, sizes, colors, and features. But when they quietly lifted their faces to her, the eyes all held the same coldness. Darien could do naught but stand before them, equally as silent. As if they had rehearsed her "orientation," they all stood and slowly filed out of the tent. All except for Rook and…

"Arisen,"

Darien looked at her pawn. _Her pawn…strange,_ she thought.

"Hello," Darien said, lamely.

"I am honored to serve you."

_Well, she seems friendly._ Darien let her eyes trace the pawn's face. She seemed genuine, but other than that…nothing. When the pawn spoke, she faced her directly and stood up straight, shoulders pulled back slightly like a soldier. Darien guessed that was what she was, in a sense.

"And," Darien said, "You're _my_ pawn?"

"Yes, Master."

Darien shook her head. This was all too much. "What's your name?"

"I haven't one."

"You don't have a name?" Darien cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "Am I supposed to give you one?"

"If that is what you wish, Master," she said. "A name would make things easier for you, methinks."

Darien stared at her. Were all pawns so…selflessly and uncaringly devoted?

"Any…preference?" Darien said, shakily.

The pawn stared back at her with the slightest tilt of her head. "No."

Darien laughed. _What a damn, long day_. "Alright," she said, turning. "I'll think of one for you."

Darien walked out of the tent and titled her head back to look at the sky. She filled her lungs and exhaled slowly. The pawn came to her side, looked at her, and then up to the sky as if trying to see the same thing she did. It was so odd.

She didn't know why, but she was suddenly reminded of a story. Most of the plot was lost to her, and the only memory she really had of it were the two characters. It had endured in her daydreams and imagination throughout her life. The tale had aught to do with a warrior and a saint.

"I've thought of one." Darien said, catching the other's attention. "I've always like the name...Zillah." She looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious, and scratched the back of her neck. "Ah, I don't know. It's from a story I heard in my childhood. Zillah was…a great person. Someone…the knight could rely on."

Darien shook her head as if to dismiss her embarrassment, and faced the pawn. "I can think of something else if you don't care for it."

The strider smiled and bowed. "This pawn would be honored to carry a name of importance to the Arisen. Zillah," she said, practicing it on her tongue. "Tis a fine name."

Darien cleared her throat. She was glad to be done with that. Being an Arisen was still a foreign idea to her – she still considered herself a fisher. Of Cassardis. On some days, a goblin-slayer or saurian bait.

"A master and her pawn, is it?"

Darien turned toward the soldier. She hadn't noticed him approach her. He wore the typical, Gran Soren armor with the Duke's crest pinned to the right hand of his chest.

And he had called her an Arisen, as well. She briefly wondered if her expressionless companion gave him the idea.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"You'll be quite the force, come the day you learn to fight as one," he said. "Mind you, that's a skill better honed in practice than in the heat of mortal combat. I can help you in that regard, should you wish it."

Darien stared at him, and then spun around until she found Rook. She threw her arm over his shoulder and smiled at the soldier.

"Well, we did slay a cyclops." she said, suddenly remembering.

The soldier blinked. "Aye, but it was half-dead before you and your pawn joined the battle."

Darien deflated, releasing Rook from her half-hug. "Did it look half-dead to you?" she asked the mage.

"I do believe so, Master." He didn't seem to share Darien's disappointment.

_Just a Cassardis fisher. Remember_.

"You…mentioned practice?"

Darien was briefly reminded of a childhood memory. Valmiro had gone missing for a full day, and Darien had decided it was her "duty" to find him. He was always losing himself to his fantasies, and normally paid for it with scratches and bruises. Darien didn't share his wonder, but was equally impulsive. He would allow his daydreams to put him in danger. She would allow her "honor" to put herself in danger. At least, that was what Quina had told them one evening after they both had fallen down Cassardis's well, and had to be fished out by the adults.

Darien didn't know why she was reminiscing about her childhood. Perhaps now she understood what Quina had meant when she had called her "reckless." True, Darien didn't know what she was planning to do. She had just wanted to spend a day or two at the encampment to find answers, perhaps to rid of Rook. But now she was being scolded by a soldier about the openings she allowed when she fought his "army of scarecrows." Which was odd, because she could have sworn she was…winning.

What in Maker's breath was she training for? Darien wasn't one to plan ahead, but she always considered her life connected to Cassardis…It still was, right?

"Focus!" the soldier, Ser Berne, shouted.

Darien brought her shield up to her chin. The scarecrow stared her down. Mocking her. _Damn_ _it all_. She swung her sword down the scarecrow's torso, leaving a deep slash. From the corner of her eye, she saw Zillah dash up to another "enemy." She was fast, and although her daggers left a shallower wound than Darien's attacks, the pawn left multiple scars. Rook, of course, was flat out torching Ser Berne's scarecrows to the ground, but the soldier didn't seem to mind.

Besides, his next 'training' for Darien's group was to move crates. _Crates_. He claimed it was to build teamwork and efficiency, but Darien thought it was an excuse to have them move equipment. Her pawns seem eager enough for the task, however, so she bit her tongue.

* * *

Darien dropped herself onto the bedroll. It was hardly any softer than the ground itself, but she welcomed the slight cushion against her back. She kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs out. Darien let her left hand lay on her stomach and her other harm across her eyes. It was dim in the shelter, with a couple whickering candles lighting the walls. The soldiers had offered a tent to herself, which she accepted gratefully – and a tad bit awkwardly. Was she the only person unaware of legends about Arisen? They seemed to regard her with a respect that she never earned. Whether or not they believed that, Darien felt odd.

Although, one of the soldiers had limped up to her and held her hands, blessing her name. She hadn't recognized him until Rook reminded her that he was the one who was almost consumed by the cyclops. The realization only embarrassed her.

"Master?" the pawn said.

Darien moved her arm below her eyes and looked sideways. Zillah stood in the tent's entrance, arm holding the door flap from her face. Darien had compared her to a shadow. Quiet, but always there when she turned to her side.

Darien sat up and crossed her legs. "Yes?"

Zillah entered the tent, letting the flap slide down her shoulder and fall behind her. "You seemed distressed."

Darien sniffed. _You could say that_. "I'm just tired." She looked down at her hands. "And I'm trying to decide what it is I should do. I have so many questions, but for now I…"

Darien lifted her head. Her face was inches from the pawn's, who was now kneeling beside her. She could make out the individual eyelashes and freckles on the other's face.

"If there is aught I can assist you with," Zillah said, "please, do not hesitate to ask."

"Alright," Darien said. "My first request…personal space, please."

Darien watched the pawn inch back. Two inches. "Is that better, Arisen?"

Darien's eyes narrowed and she smiled. "We will work on that tomorrow." She plopped herself backward, keeping her face toward the pawn. "Do you have a place to sleep?"

Zillah sat back, folding her legs beneath her, and rested her hands in her lap. "I do not require sleep, although I am capable of it."

Darien nodded, although she didn't understand. "What will you do while I sleep, then?"

"I was just going to sit here quietly."

"And…what? Watch me sleep?"

"Yes."

Darien took a deep breath. It wasn't nearly as strange coming from a pawn than a…person, but no less uncomfortable. She turned to her side, her back towards Zillah, and closed her eyes. Darien waited for her lethargy to take over, but she couldn't get the image of her pawn's mismatched eyes off her mind. Even without her own heart, Darien breathed the same way, chest rising and falling like it always had. She had to wonder if pawns had hearts. She certainly couldn't hear Zillah breathing behind her.

Darien slowly turned her head, pulling her shoulders with her, and glanced out of the corner of her eyes. Zillah was still there. The pawn lifted her face and her eyes widened slightly with expectation (Darien could only assume).

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Darien awoke to shouting. She sat up slowly, blinking hard the grogginess away. A faded, grey blanket slid from around her shoulders. She wrestled with quilt as she stood and let it fall to her feet. People were definitely screaming outside. Zillah was nowhere to be seen.

Darien grabbed her sword and exited the tent. She guessed it was still early morning from the dull daylight and the crisp air. But the people outside were frantic. She watched a handful of soldiers sprint by her, one stumbling from his knees.

She looked in the direction they came. Movement above the corner of her tent caught her eye.

Her bottom jaw dropped.

The large head of a massive snake towered over her. It hovered over the tree lines, forked tongue whipping in and out the tight maw. The limbless neck was of smooth scales of dull black, with a tan-brown underside. Darien saw the creature reel back, momentarily in shadow. She instinctively threw herself forward as the beast's head shot forward like an arrow. Darien fell flat on her chest, tasting dirt in her mouth. She whipped her face back, seeing the snake rise from destruction of wooden poles and fabric. It shook its head, throwing the tent from itself.

Before Darien could climb to her feet, she spotted another snake rise into her view. She stood and gaped. The beast was a massive creature of four snakes, bound as one into a long, limbless body. The hissing was terrible, overpowering all else. Darien felt frozen to the spot, her sword lead in her hand.

An arrow flew by Darien's ear, lodging into the base of the hydra's neck. She gasped and threw herself sideways, rolling to her feet. The snake (one of them) barely missed her as it dived. Darien felt the impact of its nose hitting the ground. She swung her sword as it withdrew. It barely left a mark, but Darien had felt her blade bite.

"Master!"

Darien kept her eyes forward as Zillah came to her side. She notched an arrow and held fast.

"What serpent grows to such a size?" she shouted.

Darien didn't have time to wonder. "'Tis a hydra! Not now!"

Two of the beast's heads roared, exposing four curved teeth among a mess of razors. Darien and Zillah backed up. There were soldiers that stood their ground, and pawns as well. Rook was at her other side.

The bulk of the beast moved forward, each head moving independently. Darien lunged forward, driving her sword forward. She felt like she was stabbing stone, and she could do naught but step sideways out of her attack as the hide of scales slipped past her. Darien looked up. The four heads snapped at those around her. Their attacks merely bounced off the scales. She rolled away as it slithered forward.

Now that it was past her, she witnessed the massive size and length of the monster. It coiled around the wooden watch tower. The shear ease of which it moved astounded her.

"Get away from there!" someone shouted. There were people up there.

One soldier leapt from the tower. He was snapped between a hydra's jaws in midair. Darien was horrified as the beast swallowed him, and he became naught but the bulge lowering down the elongated neck. Wood groaned and snapped as the hydra constricted, utterly destroying the building. Zillah's arrows bounced off the tail.

"Focus on the wounded head! Cleave it free!"

Darien couldn't trace the voice. True, the middle right head of the hydra had a red stain along its neck. She had no idea how it had happened. Darien could have sworn it moved slower than the rest, but that could have been wishful thinking.

A soldier in a white cloak shoved Darien to her side as another head whipped past them. Zillah grabbed her arm and hauled her back to her feet. Despite all that was happening, Darien very clearly noticed the red wrym embroidery on the pure white cape. The woman glanced back at them before disappearing in the panicked crowd.

"I can rush in and grab hold of its neck," Zillah said, bringing Darien back to the present. "It's risky, but might work!"

She briefly stared at the pawn and recalled their training yesterday. Zillah was more nimble, but Darien's sword held more weight, and could be quite the threat on the ground.

* * *

It had happened six years ago, but Darien remembered the event with perfect clarity. Sure, her memory was fairly average; although, she tended to space out and daydream throughout entire conversations, and she could never remember a new name when introduced to someone. But this was different. Darien recalled the weight of the leather helm on her head, just barely too big for her that when she shook, the armor rattled. She remembered the sword – her sword- in her hands, and how she gripped it hard so that it wouldn't drop from her sweaty palms. Chief Adaro stood behind her, armed with his own weapon, sheathed in his right hand.

There were a handful of villagers behind him. Benita, Pablos, Heraldo, Iola, Jaquan, and a few more that were running to see what the commotion was about. She wasn't facing them, but she always imagined that Adaro had kept his eyes on her, ready to jump in at a moment's notice. Prepared for Darien to err or hesitate.

The saurian hissed. It gripped a thick spear in its clawed hand and lowered itself, eyes locked on her. The beast was small, for the average ten feet in height of its kind. She remembered the ridged back and spikes around the neck, resembling a barbarian crown. The scales were dark, but glistened, the creature having just rose from Cassardis's well. Its mouth was opened, revealing rows of razors. The bodies of its kin lay beside it, one hanging half way out of the well, bleeding down the sides into the grass. The other lay dead on its stomach.

Darien remembered the way Iola argued with Adaro. _She's too young_, and _she's going to be killed. Do something!_

Adaro hadn't replied. He was with her. He wasn't going to leave her.

The saurian stopped hissing. Darien bent her legs, shoulder-width apart. Someone gasped as the beast lunged.

"Now!"

Darien dodged to the right. The spear rushed by her face, followed by a blur of scales and moss. Before it passed her completely, Darien swung her sword down on the tail. The sound was not unlike one heard when gutting fish, and the beast's hissed anguish. Darien was still on her knees, sword's blade on the ground beside the twitching tail, when the saurian scrambled on all four to the well and disappeared down its depths. It had left the spear behind.

The chief walked past her and stomped on the tail. He looked back at them. "I need volunteers to scout the well. We cannot tolerate such beasts in our town."

A few men raised their hands, agreeing. Darien stood and wiped sweat from her forehead. When she looked up, she noticed the chief looking at her.

"Are you coming, Minnow?"

Darien looked at him. She wasn't smiling, but she felt elevated to the point of giddiness. Her heart thundered in her chest. She adjusted the helm on her head, thinking that it wasn't too big for her.

"Maker, yes." she said.

* * *

Darien pointed at the hydra. "I need that head to come for me!" she said.

The pawn look confused. "Are you sure 'tis wise, Master?"

"It isn't," she shouted, waving her hands toward the hydra. "This is definitely a bad idea! Over here!"

She started jumping, flailing her arms. Zillah watched her evenly. Darien had no idea what was going through the pawn's head, but she didn't have time to wonder. She almost felt ridiculous, running about like a fool, considering how many people that thing had already eaten. Zillah stepped in front of Darien. For a moment, she thought that the pawn was trying to stop her until she notched an arrow into her bow and sent flying an arrow, and then another, and another.

The snake whipped its head toward them. Two heads. The remaining ones busy with the poor soldiers.

Zillah stepped aside. "We have its attention!" she said, looking at Darien as if she had just presented her with a gift.

"Wonderful," Darien said, backing up and raising her sword. "Although, I just want one right now."

The hydra bore down on them. Zillah moved away from Darien, shooing arrows at the closest head. Its tongue lashed out and it reeled back. Before she could utter a word, Darien watched the beast dive toward the pawn, throwing up dust and dirt.

Darien gasped and went to step forward, but froze at the roaring hiss above her. The snake was over her, muscles rippling beneath the scales, tense. It had moved considerably faster than any saurian had. Darien faced it. Zillah would have to wait. She put her arms out and gripped her sword hard.

It was just her and the hydra – and really only a quarter of it.

"Arisen!"

Darien threw herself sideways. The side of her arm burned from the wave of scales and it spun her. She carried the momentum of her turn and brought the sword up. For a heartbeat, she held it above the neck of the hydra. Darien brought the sword down with all her might. Then she wrenched it free and brought it down again. Her sword went deep.

The neck jerked up, throwing Darien back and the head into the air. It landed hard on the ground, turning the earth beneath it red. It took Darien a moment for her to realize that she was looking at the sky. And then Zillah's face. Her hair fell around Darien's vision.

"Are you unharmed, Master?" she asked.

Darien gaped at her. "Are you?" Zillah took her hand and helped her to her feet. "I thought the hydra…"

"Not this day, Arisen."

Speaking of…Darien walked by the pawn towards the hydra's decapitated head. The beast's retreat was so sudden. Darien tried to catch her breath as the last of the tail disappeared into the wilderness. How could such a thing be left to –

The disembodied head roared. Darien spun around. She blinked against the splatters of salvia, as well as a foul stench of breath. The cry faded into a sigh as the last of its life faded. A red symbol appeared on the top of the head before fading entirely. Darien felt like her heart had stopped…_wait._

She looked up from the head. A group of soldiers stood on the other side of the corpse, behind one in the white cloak. She was shorter than the others, with short black hair, tan skin, and icy blue eyes. Her silver chest plate had splatters of red across it, but still shone bright. Her white cloak hung regally behind her. Darien guessed she was a captain.

"I am impressed." the soldier said.

The men behind pushed past her and circled the hydra's one head. They chattered excitedly, like children around a new toy.

"This your work?" one soldier asked, gesturing to the corpse. "For truth?"

Darien shrugged. Her legs were stiff, and she didn't want to risk falling over.

The captain approached her, ignoring the distracted soldiers. "Ancient tales of the Arisen are well and good, friend," she said, glancing at the head. "But make a gift of this head to the duke…And you might earn yourself a real title."

Darien smiled, unable to ignore pride swelling in her. She gave a slight, half-bow. "I'm Darien…Of Cassardis."

"Mercedes Marten. I lead the men of the Enlistment Corps." She slowly circled the head. "Arisen, I see better now from whence the legends arose. Good judgment, swift footwork…Impressive, truly."

She appreciated the praise, and Darien didn't have the heart to explain her mad run of luck.

"In any case, the duke will want to know of this attack. I'd hoped to gather a larger force before leaving for the capital…" She looked straight at Darien. "But a hydra's head and the Arisen who claimed it make up the difference amply."

"Me? Go to the capital?" She rubbed her face. "I don't know. 'Tis sudden."

"Pray, think on it," Mercedes said. "We shall depart in three days. 'Twill be slow going with a cart. Should you change your mind, I daresay you'll have no trouble catching up."

Darien stayed in the same spot while the knight turned her attention to nearby soldiers, barking orders at them.

"What will you do, Master?" Zillah asked.

"First," Darien said, "Let me lean on you." She held the pawn's left shoulder, and Zillah seemed more than happy to lend her aid.

"You should rest."

Darien laughed. "I just woke up." She looked around, a thought coming to her. "Where's Rook?"

"The hydra devoured him midway the battle."

Darien stared up at her. The pawn had said it so casually that it made her wonder if she was joking. How had she missed that? How could Zillah be so…. Darien ignored the lightness in her head and unslung her arm from around the pawn, suddenly losing all her enthusiasm.

* * *

_I really enjoyed fighting the hydra for the first time, but I was horrified when it ate one of my pawns (what a way to go). I ended up rewriting the fight scene because...I can't see Darien trying to climb it like with the cyclops. The first boss was slow and clumsy - a hydra is way more intimidating (it has four freakin' heads.) I also included the flashback with the saurian to, hopefully, show how she was able to cleave the hydra's head (the whole "dodge and slice" technique). There are naturally skilled and fearless Arisen in the world, but Darien is not one of them. She gets scared and has to struggle through these fights to survive. _

_I want to send a big "Thank You" to Bombsoldier, who reviewed the first two chapters of my story. I am mainly writing this fanfiction for my own enjoyment (love writing and Dragon's Dogma), but it is really encouraging to know that someone out there is reading it. So thanks! _


	4. Chapter 4

Zillah moved through the rift. Her mistress had said it was dark and cold there, but it was not so with her. Humans had no word for such a place. It was not her home. The rift did not belong to her as the concept of property. Perhaps it could best be described as a sanctuary, where the pawn was most at ease. Here, time had no value. Zillah could walk among the shadows of the rift for what could seem to be hours, and return without a minute passing in Gransys. That said, she was eager to return the Arisen's side.

Pawns had no authority over each other. They had naught the will for hierarchy. These were her kin. She had come into existence only recently, born through her duty to Arisen, but she was of the pawn legion forever. Perhaps not in form, a shade among shadows. Death was a stranger among them. And, so was life.

Zillah had tried explaining to the Arisen that pawns never truly died. They only returned to the rift, ready to be summoned once again. Her words fell on deaf ears. The Arisen only stared at her with human melancholy. Zillah was new to the world outside the rift, but she knew enough to differentiate basic emotions. The Arisen's mood had changed when she learned of the pawn's, Rook's, "death." Zillah knew he was the first of her kind to accompany her.

The Arisen must have felt guilt, then. It was inane. Although she appreciated her master's concern, it was unnecessary. Pawns will always put their "lives" on the line for the Arisen. It just was.

Zillah had told her that even if she were to die, her master could summon her at a riftstone. She did not understand why that information only seemed to further upset the Arisen. Humans were…strange.

The Arisen was fast asleep when Zillah returned. The candle upon the dresser was still lit, and fluttered weakly in the dark. Her master's sword lay propped against the wall beside the bed, and a newly awarded shield beside it.

The Arisen slept on her side, hands curled in front of her face. Zillah momentarily watched her and listened, assuring herself that her master was, indeed, breathing. Unlike pawns, humans died permanently. She blew out the candle and exited the Arisen's home. It was quiet night in Cassardis.

Rook was waiting patiently outside her master's home.

"She is asleep." Zillah whispered.

"Very well," Rook replied, rubbing his chin. "I shall return in the morning."

"She seemed quite upset," she said, glancing at the dark window of the house. "Even with my assurances."

The mage looked at her. "Humans fear death. 'Tis natural for their kind. You will better understand human emotions the more you interact with them."

"Do you?"

"No," he turned, looking far toward the riftstone. "Not all of it."

"I explained to the Arisen that pawns do not die."

"I know."

"That she could summon you at her side again."

"I know."

"Then why does she choose to be upset?"

Rook sighed – a very human response that bothered her. "They have as much control over their emotions as they do over the weather." he said. "They haven't a choice. It just is."

Zillah watched the other pawn leave. She would have to figure things out along the way.

When the Arisen saw Rook the next morning, she threw her arms around his waist and lifted him off the ground (impressive, really, considering how much shorter she was). She seemed surprised at first, staring at the pawn with wide eyes. Then she started laughing when she hugged him. But then she stopped, and questioned Rook's wellbeing, seeming quite concerned. Then silent – perhaps she was disturbed. Zillah could only watch these flurries of emotions, only to understand one expression before it was replaced by another.

Humans were quite strange, but Zillah would try her hardest to learn of their ways. For the Arisen.

* * *

_Short chapter from Zillah's POV. It is really interesting to write a character who doesn't have much...character. I have all these ideas for the growing relationship between Darien and Zillah, but as of right now she is quite emotionless. According to the game, and Dragon's Dogma Wiki, pawns slowly gain emotions the more they interact with the Arisen. So that's what I'm going for. _


End file.
